Stare at the Sky
by MidnightResWri
Summary: Castiel was found near the bunker kneeling on the ground and staring at the sky long after the last angel fell. Season 8 finale spoilers.


**A/N: **Requested by thattallguy69 on tumblr.

Stare at the Sky  
by MidnightResWri

Castiel was found near the bunker. He knelt on the ground, head tilted back, and watched the sky. The angels had stopped falling hours ago and the sun was cresting the horizon. He had a pain in his stomach—something he hadn't experienced since Famine. He was weary, something he hadn't experienced since he tried becoming God. He felt a weight on his shoulders that was worse than all the guilt he had before he was forced to fall. Before his brothers and sisters were forced to fall. It was his fault, after all.

All of it was his fault. If only he'd been better, stronger, less _trusting_.

xxx

The Winchesters spotted him from the impala. Dean looked at Sam, still hurting from whatever the hell the trials were doing to him, and back to Cas just staring at the sky on his knees. The angel didn't even seem to notice the rumble of the engine when it approached the area. For some reason, that pissed Dean off more than the sight of the guy who caused the sky to fall the night before.

"Are we just gonna," wheezed Sam, "look at him?"

Dean turned to his brother and shook his head. "First thing's first, I'm getting you inside the bunker, alright?"

"Dean, look at him," Sam winced as he adjusted his body to get a better view of Castiel.

"Yeah, and he looks fine," said Dean. He turned the key and yanked it out of its slot (silently apologizing to his baby). He got out of the car, shot a look at the still oblivious man on the ground, and then carefully pulled Sam out.

Dean walked slowly for his brother, who grunted, hissed, and bit back whatever pained noise wanted to come out. He still couldn't believe Sam's confession. The kid was stronger than he was in more ways than one.

They made it to the bunker door and Dean searched his pockets before he remembered he gave the key to Kevin. Secret knock it was, then, he thought and pounded the familiar rhythm. He waited with Sam's head now lolling to one side and eyes fluttering. Damn it, Dean couldn't lose him. Not again.

He waited for Kevin. Sam needed to get to bed. Get his head propped up and get rested so he'd get better. "Come on," he whispered, and repeated it until he was near the point of yelling.

The door swung open and there was Kevin, eyes wide and looking between the two of them. He asked, "What the hell happened out there? These old machines started going crazy last night. What the hell is going on?"

Dean shoved his way inside, dragging Sam with him. Kevin followed after him, repeating his question and demanding an explanation. Dean ignored him until he was able to get Sam in his bed. "Get some sleep and don't you dare think about getting out of bed." Then, he closed the door to the room and walked back to the entrance, the prophet still talking.

"Tell me, Dean, I deserve to know," Kevin yelled. "Did you close the gates to Hell or not? And if whatever happened wasn't you guys, then who did it?"

Dean turned around, glowering at Kevin. "You wanna know what happened? The angels _fell_. All of them. And now, they're all grounded here."

"So you didn't close Hell?" Kevin slammed his palms to his forehead, digging nails into his head. "Then what the fuck was even the point of translating the trials?" He pounded a fist against the table and breathed heavily, like it took all his strength to keep from screaming.

Dean didn't answer him. Not because he didn't have an answer, no. His answer was lying in a bed hurt from something Dean couldn't heal. From something _Cas_couldn't heal. And then he remembered the angel just outside the bunker and he turned his back on the prophet and left.

Castiel was still there on the ground. His body sore from not moving. He just stared at the sky, wishing it would give him the answers. He prayed to God, despite every time he had a reply never came. Death would be so much better than everything he felt now.

He didn't hear the approaching footsteps. He didn't turn to see who was there. He didn't care. He lost his home indefinitely. He lost his family, now scattered across the globe. He didn't care who found him on the dried leaves in the chilly morning.

"You son of a bitch, what the hell did you do?" Castiel turned his head slightly to see Dean standing a few feet from him. The hunter's hands were clenched and his jaw set. Castiel lowered his eyes and waited for the tirade he knew would come.

"Not gonna answer me?" Dean growled and closed the gap between them. "Is that what you wanted? Huh, Cas? Was the angels falling your idea of _fixing_ things?" He grabbed Castiel by his coat collar, pulling him up to get a better look at his face. "Do you feel better now? Do you even know what the hell you even did? Because I sure don't want to deal with this mess on top of everything else!"

Castiel met Dean's eyes for only a second and looked away. The man didn't know it was Metatron who expelled his brethren. That his own grace had been stolen in order to do it. He choked on the words he wanted to say. Dean scowled and shoved him away. He didn't notice Castiel stumbling away, working to keep his balance. "You know what? I don't have time to deal with this shit right now. I don't even know why I bothered coming out here. "

Castiel's fist connected with Dean's chin. The hunter took a step back out of surprise more than pain. And then there was a flicker of fear because he remembered the alleyway before the apocalypse and he remembered the crypt. But, confusion stamped out the fear because that felt too weak to be the punch of an angel, even one holding back. "Cas…"

Castiel flexed his fingers, marveling that hitting a human (well he was human now, too) could actually hurt. He looked from his hand to Dean and then punched him again, but it was weaker. Dean took the hit, still surprised by the lack of power behind them.

The former angel cried out as he aimed his fists at Dean, frustrated by the impotency of his being human, angry that he couldn't stop Metatron. Every blow felt heavier, slower, and less effective and Dean hadn't moved to dodge them, trying to understand why Castiel wasn't hitting hard enough to kill him or why this whole situation felt so wrong.

Finally, Castiel stopped, gripping Dean's jacket to keep him upright. He wailed, a noise Dean had never heard from the angel. It sounded pained and human and Dean looked down at the mess of brown hair. His eyes widened as he put the pieces together. His angel didn't cause the angels' fall. Castiel fell just like the rest of them. "Oh Cas," breathed Dean.

The hunter lifted his hands, hesitated, and then grabbed Castiel's shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. "Not you, too." he whispered.

The fallen angel wept, burying his face in Dean's chest. Dean rested his chin on Castiel's, eyes searching the surrounding woods for answers. "We're, uh, we're gonna get through this, okay?" He didn't know what he was doing. He knew he couldn't say that everything would be alright, because how could it be? Heaven had just been emptied of angels. His brother could be dying. Castiel was human. Hell was still open.

So, he let Castiel sob until all that was left was hiccups and shuddering breaths. "Dean," he rasped still crushing himself against the hunter's chest, "does your head always hurt after you cry?"

"Let's get inside, Cas," said Dean, "and we'll get you something for that headache." He rubbed small circles on Castiel's back, renewing his sobs for an entirely different reason: he missed his wings. Neither thought he had any tears left and there they were, leaving more streaks on his face.

Dean let him stay against his chest. It was weird enough to hear Castiel sob, but he didn't want to face how perfectly human it was and it scared him. So, he rubbed circles on the other man's back and stared at the sky where the angels had fallen.


End file.
